


Lovebirds

by AccioInvisibilityCloak



Category: Lovely Little Losers, Nothing Much to Do
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Making Out, Rule Breaking, Strong Language, light undertones of angst, like this is what should have happened tbh, non-canon compliant, pretty close though, prompted on tumblr, seriously so much kissing, super cheesy and adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:26:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5936743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccioInvisibilityCloak/pseuds/AccioInvisibilityCloak
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh my God,” Beatrice sighs, sinking down into the soft mattress. “Oh, Ben. Best belated anniversary ever.”</p><p>“You’re easy to please,” laughs Ben, stretching out beside her on the bed, propped up on one elbow so he can see her better. She’s so beautiful, her long hair framing her face, her blue eyes alight. “And this is technically our only anniversary ever. Well, so far.”</p><p>“That reminds me,” Beatrice says, slipping under the soft red and navy blue plaid topsheet. “I’m leaving you.”</p><p>Or, the one when Benedick says "fuck it" and sneaks Beatrice into the flat after curfew to spend the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovebirds

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, there, all! So, this little fic was prompted to me by all-other-blog-names-were-taken on tumblr, who prompted: "I would love some fluffy beadick fic (is it AU if ben says screw the rules and sneaks bea into the flat after curfew to spend the night? Because I could really use some not canon, secret rule-breaking, beadick fic. getting caught is optional). I know it's vague so do what you like with it!" So that's exactly what I did. I had so much fun with this prompt. Honestly, sneaking-around!Beadick is the Beadick we deserved, not that we'd ever logically have been able to get it. So, here I am to rectify the drastic lack of Beadick fluff of late. I miss these nerds. 
> 
> Yeah, this is basically the very closest you'll ever get to me writing smut. You do not want me to actually write smut, I promise you. Plus it makes me sort of uncomfortable. So slightly heavy-duty makeouts will have to do! I hope you enjoy!

***

            One afternoon, they’re sitting in the kitchen of the flat, chairs pushed close together at the small table. Beatrice is playing an app game on her phone while Ben works through his homework, occasionally stopping to read interesting passages of Marlowe out loud to her. Every once in a while, they accidentally (on purpose) brush hands.

It’s nice to just spend time together, doing their own respective things in silence without any rule-related pressure or suspicion on their shoulders. They have the flat to themselves, so they have their privacy.

That is, until Freddie gets home.

 

They hear the front door slam, and Ben looks up from his book just as Freddie stalks inside.

“I’m home! Hey, too close for comfort, lovebirds,” she says when she sees Beatrice so close to Ben, her fingers just grazing his on the tabletop. “Rules are rules.”

“Hi Freddie,” Ben says, exasperated, pulling his hand away obediently, as Bea wrinkles her nose.

“We are _not_ lovebirds!” she calls after Freddie, who is heading to her room to get started on homework too, and doesn’t bother replying.

Ben frowns. “Uh, yeah, we kind of are,” he points out. “I’m pretty sure dating for over a year counts as lovebirds, Beatrice.”

“Ew, no, it does not! It counts as being very happily in love and too mature for weird sappy titles like- wait. What did you just say?”

“Just that we’re kind of an established thing, right? And I think lovebirds are cute,” he grins, noting happily that she just said she’s in love with him. Never gets old.

“Of course _you_ do,” she smiles back. “No, but it’s been over a _year_? Really? When did that happen?”

“Well, we got together last November, right?”

“Wait, wait, are we counting that video we filmed in the courtyard at school when I first kissed you?” Beatrice asks. “Or would it be when you brought over the flowers for the vigil and I panicked because I thought they were for me?”

“I still don’t know how you thought that, you asked me to bring them for Hero!”

“I was nervous! About Hero, and about you. I’d never dated anyone before, and then I also wanted the vigil to be perfect. God, that whole thing was so awful. I’m so glad you were there.”

“Always. Hey, I thought it was the day of Ursula’s picnic that we made it official, though,” Ben points out. “Wasn’t that the day we started telling people?”

“Yeah, but- wow. A whole year?” Bea stares up at him in wonder.

Ben starts to laugh. “I can’t believe you forgot our anniversary!”

“I can’t believe _you_ did!” Bea shoots back. “You really did forget me when you moved away, didn’t you?”

She means it like a joke, but suddenly her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. Ben stops laughing.

 

             “Never,” he says seriously, taking her hands in his. “Not for a second. I was- I was really more afraid you’d forget me.”

“I really didn’t want you to leave, Ben,” Beatrice admits, not looking at him. “Our relationship was still so new, and I was so afraid we’d never be able to make it work if we were apart.”

“Bea, I felt the same way, I was terrified. I… I’m still terrified. I don’t want us to be apart either.”

“We’re not apart now, are we?” she points out, and this time her smile is genuine. “I just wish we could celebrate somehow. Without the others breathing down our necks.”

“Oh, really? I thought you hated all that ‘weird, sappy’ couple stuff,” says Ben.

“I mean, yeah, but… not when it’s _us_ ,” Beatrice tells him, pulling her hands away from his, in case anyone decides to burst in on them. “Like, anniversaries are stupid, right? It doesn’t matter how long we’ve been together, just that we’re happy. But it’s still… kind of a big deal, isn’t it? A whole year- it’s like, we did it, you know? We survived. We’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” Ben says softly, like he can’t quite believe it either. “I love you, Beatrice.”

“Yeah, me too,” she says, looking down at her hands and fidgeting uncomfortably. “I still hate lovebirds, though.”

“Of course you do,” Ben laughs. “I guess I can accept that, love.”

“Good.” Beatrice sighs, rolling her shoulders before tilting her head from side to side, stretching out her neck. “Ugh, I’m still sore from sleeping on the ground. I really hate that damn tent.”

“So, don’t go back tonight,” says Ben suddenly.

“Excuse me, what? Are you actually coming to your senses about this?”

“Well,” he says, moving to stand behind her and rub her shoulders, “it _is_ a special occasion, isn’t it?”

Beatrice stiffens and leans away from his touch. “Stop that, you’re making it worse. I’m still mad at you, you know. What makes you think I even want to stay here instead?”

“You don’t have to,” Ben says, voice tight with frustration. “You have every right to be mad at me. I just thought you wanted to celebrate, that’s all. And I want you to be comfortable.”

“It feels like it’s been an age, since last November, doesn’t it?” Bea asks softly.

Ben shakes his head. “It feels like it’s been no time at all.”

She stands, reaches up to touch his cheek with a sad smile, then leaves the kitchen. Ben watches her go, feeling distinctly as though he’s losing something, and he’s powerless to stop it.

He hears Beatrice pause by Freddie’s room to call out a quick goodbye, and then the front door snaps shut.

 

              He wants to call after Bea, wants to tell her he’ll stand up to his flatmates, let them do their worst, he isn’t letting anything come between them anymore… but the flat needs these rules, to get along. Peter and Balthazar need these rules to push them together, they deserve a chance to be together. Ben needs these rules, needs the camera. It’s the only thing he’s good at anymore, the only thing he has, and the idea of letting go of that…

He takes a sharp breath, arms wrapped around himself, suddenly just as panicked as he was that morning when the others had strong-armed him into signing the rules. It seems inevitable, that he’s caught between two impossible choices, and all the while the stress of school and life and things with Beatrice is piling up and up and-

His phone goes off, and he can hear the first tinny notes of Beatrice’s song. _There’s no way to tell you…_

**Text from BEATRICE: Hey, so I’m going back to the tent to tell Meg where I’ll be tonight. I’ll be back in an hour. If they catch us, we’ll tell them I forgot something in your room. ;)**

Ben takes a deep breath, lets it out again, flooding with relief. She wants to spend the night after all. They really are okay.

(He doesn’t let himself think about what might happen if they’re caught. This ridiculous rule wasn’t supposed to apply to him and Bea anyway. There’s nothing to feel guilty about, right?)

 

**Text to BEATRICE: Can’t wait.**

He completes it with a sparkle heart emoji, because why not? It’s a special occasion, after all.

 

                                                                                                                           ***

 

             “Oh my _God_ ,” Beatrice sighs, sinking down into the soft mattress. “Oh, _Ben_. Best belated anniversary _ever_.”

It’s well after curfew. They’ve managed to sneak Bea past the others, who are all safely ensconced in their rooms now. Bea had to hide in Ben’s room through dinner, but she grabbed something with Meg before she snuck in, so she wasn’t hungry. She had apparently been talking to Hero on Facebook while she waited for him. Now she’s very much enjoying Ben’s bed, which he doesn’t think is a particularly impressive one, really. But then, he isn’t the one who’s been sleeping on the ground for the past two weeks, he thinks, with another twinge of guilt.

“You’re easy to please,” laughs Ben, stretching out beside her on the bed, propped up on one elbow so he can see her better. She’s so beautiful, her long hair framing her face, her blue eyes alight. “And this is technically our _only_ anniversary ever. Well, so far.”

“That reminds me,” Beatrice says, slipping under the soft red and navy blue plaid topsheet. “I’m leaving you.”

Ben’s eyes widen in alarm and he sits up, but he doesn’t even have the chance to speak before she continues.

“For this bed! We’re just meant to be. It’s true love. I’m so sorry, Benedick. You’re out.” She wraps her arms around the stuffed ram he keeps by his pillow and closes her eyes, feigning sleep, an entirely alert and purposeful smirk playing about her lips.

“Oh, I see how it is. Next you’re going to say, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’, right?” Ben asks, complete with air quotes, and Beatrice cracks one eye open, considering him.

“Nope, it’s definitely you,” she pronounces, and he laughs.

“Hey!”

“Well, obviously it’s not me. _I_ didn’t agree to a bunch of stupid rules without consulting my beloved girlfriend first. And then make her sleep in a fucking tent.” She says it lightheartedly, but there’s a bite to her words.

“I really am so sorry about this shit,” Ben says, frustration and sadness bleeding through in his words. “I did fight for you, you know. I told Freddie I refused to compromise on us.”

“And she told you…” Beatrice trails off expectantly.

“That she had a new flatmate lined up already if I didn’t sign the rules.” Ben pulls up a corner of the sheet in order to properly hide his face in shame. “…Do you hate me?”

“Benedick. I am literally _in your bed_ right now. After curfew. With full intent to get into some, what do you losers call it? Shenanigans?” she points out, breaking into a mischievous grin and reaching out to take his hand, threading their fingers together. Immediately, he begins to run his thumb gently back and forth across the soft skin of her hand. “How do you _think_ I feel?”

“I think… _Fuck_ the rules,” he says, honestly.

“Good answer,” Beatrice says, pushing herself up to meet him in a soft kiss.

 

             It’s still early enough that someone could easily hear them, and they both know they really shouldn’t get too carried away. Not here. Not yet.

But it’s the first time their lips have touched in months, since Ben was back in Auckland for his last break from classes, and the moment they embrace, it’s just electric.

Bea presses her lips against his, opening them just slightly to meet him as he does the same, deepening the kiss. Her hand slides away from his as she reaches up and gently cups his cheek, pulling him closer. Her other hand comes to rest at his shoulder, gripping his shirt. Ben’s own hands find their way, one into her soft blonde hair, and the other to rest at her waist, and she’s kissing him, so deeply and so fiercely that for the first time in ages, there’s not a single thought in his mind apart from _Beatrice_.

 

            They fall back against the pillows, too engaged in each other to bother with anything as trivial as managing to stay upright. She laughs against his mouth as they roll over so that she’s balanced above him, and his hands move to her back, steadying her as she holds herself up on her elbows.

“Hi,” she whispers, drawing away for just a moment. “Okay?”

“Amazing,” he breathes. “You?”

She answers with a nod and another kiss, playful and short, and though he can feel desire rising in his midsection, hot and intense, he carefully maneuvers their bodies so they’re lying on their sides, and he can more easily kiss along her jawline, gently, slowly, until he reaches the place on her neck, just below her ear, and she sighs against him as he continues to kiss and suck at the exact right place, and then, reluctantly, she stops him, before she gets a bruise that would completely undermine the keeping of this beautiful little secret between them come tomorrow. Bea replaces that kiss with her lips against his mouth as her hands slip low to the hem of his t-shirt.

He whines in protest when she breaks the kiss to try and pull his shirt over his head, completely lost in the moment, and everything is going fine until, the shirt obscuring his field of vision, Ben, leaning back to wrestle it off, accidentally hits his hand, hard, against the wall.

Most unfortunately, this makes a terrific smacking noise, definitely loud enough to be heard elsewhere in the flat.

“Shit,” he hisses, wincing, and dispenses with the shirt, tossing it onto the floor.

 

             Beatrice lets her head drop to rest against his bare chest, and she bites her lip, obviously willing herself to stay quiet. Ben is sure she can hear his heart hammering away; it seems so loud in its current combination of joy and fear, everyone in the house could be woken up by the noise, if his hand hitting the wall a moment ago weren’t loud enough already.

They lie as still and silent as possible, barely even breathing, straining to hear one or all of Ben’s flatmates coming to catch them red-faced and red-handed, arms around each other in bed.

No one comes.

 

            Finally, after what feels like years of tense silence, Beatrice starts to laugh softly.

“Oh, my God, are you okay?” she asks, breathless, and takes his throbbing hand, pressing kisses to his knuckles through her giggles. “Do you think they heard us?”

“I think if they heard us, they’d already be in here busting my arse. They’d love to give me a punishment,” he says, and he honestly can’t blame them.

Beatrice echoes his thoughts flirtatiously, whispering, “Mmm. You’d definitely deserve it.”

“I wouldn’t care. You are more than worth it.” He presses a kiss to the crown of her head.

“And I’m sure you’ll be saying that when they’re pouring a bucket of gunge over your head for the capital sin of kissing your girlfriend,” she teases.

“Ooh, gunge, good idea! I’ll have to add that to the punishment list,” Ben jokes, and Beatrice lifts her head to shoot him an incredulous look.

“There’s a _list_?! That’s ridiculous. I swear to God, you and your flatmates need to be stopped.”

“Well, okay, no,” he admits. “There’s no list. But if there was, gunge would be on it.”

“If I lived in this flat, I would have moved the hell out already,” Beatrice sighs.

“I’m pretty sure we’ve all at least considered it, at this point,” Ben concedes. “Well, except for Freddie, because-”

“Her name is on the lease,” they both say at the same time.

“I know,” Beatrice finishes. “But that doesn’t mean you have to let her boss you around. That doesn’t mean you have to let those rules you helped her write come between us like this.”

“There’s nothing between us now,” he points out, grinning, using her own words from earlier against her. He clasps the short sleeve of her tight white ‘I am SHER-locked’ t-shirt between two fingers. “Well, except for…”

“Shut up, you. They’ll hear us,” Beatrice points out, but she punctuates the words by lifting her head to capture his lips once more with her own. As it turns out, she’s more than happy to get a little more comfortable, herself, and then there’s even less between them than before.

 

              First, though, she kisses him thoroughly, and he kisses her back, calm and happy and content to do nothing more than kiss her like this for the rest of tonight, for as long as she’ll let him.

And in the morning, finally, he’ll get to wake up with Beatrice wrapped in his arms, or, more likely, stretched out beside him, close enough to touch, the sunlight casting a soft glow on her blonde hair, lighting up her face, peaceful with sleep.

How to sneak her back out of the flat- that will be tomorrow’s problem.

For now, they’re both right where they belong, and Benedick can’t quite bring himself to believe that her lips on his, her skin against his own, her voice in his ears, whispering three little words, can possibly be crimes against any rules at all.

“Happy anniversary, love,” he whispers in reply against her lips.

She smiles. “Happy anniversary.”

***


End file.
